


my heartsbeats next to yours

by BookFangirlMaryJane



Series: Thoschei Spyvember Prompts [2]
Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Cuddling & Snuggling, Drinking, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Frozen (Disney Movies) References, Kissing, Post-Episode: s12e10 The Timeless Children, Racism, Running, Sexism, Sharing a Bed, Spoilers, Spyvember Prompts (Doctor Who), as in only cuddling, because the Master is a bastard, ginger tea, only mentioned - Freeform, slumber party, why is there no cuddling tag?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-15
Updated: 2020-11-15
Packaged: 2021-03-10 02:00:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,336
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27576194
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BookFangirlMaryJane/pseuds/BookFangirlMaryJane
Summary: London, 2019. Unfamiliar streets, no one around to help. The Doctor’s wracking her brain trying to think of a place to go, trying to think of someone she knows who lives here, lives close enough for her to get help from. There has to be someone. There are a lot of people she knows who live in London, in almost every time period. She just has to remember…Oh.--o--Written for Spyvember, prompt was 'Slumber Party'.Spoilers for series 11 and 12, mostly series 12 though.
Relationships: Thirteenth Doctor/The Master (Dhawan)
Series: Thoschei Spyvember Prompts [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2017984
Comments: 18
Kudos: 56





	my heartsbeats next to yours

**Author's Note:**

> Yes, I'm back with a new story! I have no idea how I managed it.  
> Inspiration struck, and here I am, with more than 5,000 words. Since yesterday.  
> And this time, it's even with fluff!
> 
> Yeah, this got a bit away from me, to be honest, but I like it.
> 
> Spoilers for series 11 and 12 of Doctor Who, obviously.  
> Have fun reading!

The Doctor is running. Running, running, running, her boots drum on the pavement, loud in the silence of the evening but not loud enough to cover the jeering of the three burly humans chasing her.

She just **had** to intervene, didnt she? She just can’t let injustice slide, can she? Why does she have to stick her nose into everything?! Why did she have to step in between these guys and that kid? Oh, right, because she’s the Doctor and that’s what the Doctor does.

Except now she’s being chased through London by three men and she has no idea where to go. Her TARDIS is the other way and she can’t turn around now. Not with these guys so close.

London, 2019. Unfamiliar streets, no one around to help. The Doctor’s wracking her brain trying to think of a place to go, trying to think of someone she knows who lives here, lives close enough for her to get help from. There has to be someone. There are a lot of people she knows who live in London, in almost every time period. She just has to remember…

 _Oh_.

A groan slips past her lips and she takes a sharp turn left. There **is** someone living in London, not too far from here, and she can’t believe she’s even **considering** this. But what choice does she have? No choice, that’s what. She’s been running for a while now and she doesn’t think she can outrun these guys for much longer.

Turn, race down the alley, turn again, turn, turn, turn, until she can see a small house at the corner of the street, catches sight of the number 4 on the door, feels the barely-there trace of another Time Lord’s mind. He’s home. She’s never been so glad that he’s there.

Shouts behind her make her double the pace, one last desperate effort to get up the couple steps with one quick leap and frantically slam her fists against the front door. The men behind her jeer at her desperation but she doesn’t care. She can hear him come closer, can feel his mind for a single moment before it’s suddenly shut off, sequestered away, probably because he realized just **who** is standing on his doorstep.

The door opens and she stumbles inside, right into the Master’s chest. He looks down at her in very real confusion before his gaze slides over her head and to the three men not far from them. They’ve stopped running at the sight of him. One of them mutters a slur and spits on the ground before the stairs. The Doctor swallows. Maybe leading three white men to a not-white man’s doorstep hadn’t been the best of plans.

The Master looks right at them. “Is there a problem here, Doctor? Are these guys bothering you?” One of his hands reaches for her shoulder, reassuringly, for him or her, she’s not sure. It doesn’t matter, anyway.

“Yeah,” she breathes out. “Sorry, didn’t mean to drop in like this.”

“No problem. Come in, please.” He’s still watching the men when he pulls her into the house. The Doctor keeps her eyes on the leader of the group until the door cuts off her view. She doesn’t like the way he stared at them.

The Master locks the door. Twice.

The two of them stand in the hallway for a long while, just listening for the men outside. They mutter angrily for a while but eventually three sets of footsteps move away. With a shaky exhale the Doctor finds all the adrenaline that brought her here suddenly leave her body and her legs give out underneath her.

“Whoa, hey, alright, I’ve got you, Doctor.” Strong arms catch her and the Master keeps her upright, presses her against his chest and helps her down the hallway into a cozy living room.

He sits her down on a purple sofa, because **of course** he owns a purple sofa, and then kneels down in front of her, takes her hands in his and looks up at her with concerned eyes. She doesn’t know how much of it is fake. She doesn’t know how much of any of what he’s doing is fake.

“Doctor?”

She takes a breath. Then another. The oxygen calms her a little. “’M okay. Just… adrenaline,” she hears herself mutter. “Give me a moment…”

The Master’s gaze softens. “Of course. I was making tea. Fancy a cuppa?” Quickly the Doctor nods and watches him leave the room. Then she exhales another shaking breath and closes her eyes. Everything is alright. Everything is perfectly alright. The men are gone. O is… The Master is here. He’s pretending to be O, so he won’t hurt her. Not intentionally. Not physically.

When the Master returns, the Doctor has taken off her boots and is curled up on the sofa, arms wrapped around her legs and chin resting on top. She’s staring into nothing.

“Doctor?” he gently asks and she blinks.

“Yeah.” She slowly lets go and stretches her arms a little. Takes the cup of tea he’s handing her. For a moment she considers poison. Then she throws the suspicion out again. He wouldn’t. Poison isn't his style.

“Sorry for… leading these guys to your home. I didn’t… didn’t know where else to go.” He waves off her apology with a hand. “Nonsense, Doctor! I’m just glad you’re okay.” His gaze rakes over her body. “You are, right? They didn’t hurt you?”

She smiles at him. It must look horribly weak. “Yeah, I’m okay. Not hurt.” She swallows. “They were beating up some kid. I went right in the middle and got the kid out but then they started chasing me… And the TARDIS was the other way and I couldn’t think of any place and then I remembered you live in London and you once texted me your address…”

With absolute certainty, the Doctor adds: “I don’t know what I would have done if you hadn’t opened the door.”

O, the Master, O looks at her and there is something dark in his eyes. “I’m glad I was home. Guys like those…” He doesn’t continue but she can imagine where that sentence is going.

“I wasn’t thinking, you know, at first. I just… I help people. That’s what I do. But I didn’t… I thought being dunked as a witch would be the worst of the repercussions of being a woman, or not being taken seriously in a crisis. I never realized…”

She never realized how awful it feels to be a woman on a planet reigned by men. How it feels to look at three guys in a dark alley and realize that they’re not scared of her, realize that she’s not a man and they aren’t going to let her get away with interrupting them. How it feels to pass by a group of people and hear them whisper filthy things to each other about what they want to do to her.

“It must be hard.” O is watching her. The Master is watching her. She can’t keep the two of them apart in her mind. She doesn’t think they can be separated, anyway. There are traces of the Master in O, as there are traces of O in the Master.

A disguise is only as good as the foundation it’s built on.

“Kinda. Earth is usually the place with the most… prejudice.” Although, there are worse places to be female. She doesn’t think about them that often, only when making a note to avoid going there at all cost.

“I really didn’t mean to drop in like this,” the Doctor says and looks at the Master. He’s hiding his tension very well. She wonders just how many of his plans are strewn around the house, in plain sight, and how many of them he can hide from her if she stays. He’s probably wondering the same thing, just more panicked.

“It’s okay, Doctor. I don’t mind.” He ducks his head and fidgets with his sleeve. “Although I’m… a bit embarrassed you’re seeing my home this disorganized. I’m not usually this… messy when I have people over.” Something flickers over his face. “Not that I have people over all that much.”

The Doctor smiles at him and takes a careful sip of tea. _Oh_. Oh, that **bastard**. Lemon and ginger tea. Damn him! She doesn’t complain, though.

“It’s completely fine, O. I don’t mind a little bit of chaos. And it doesn’t look so bad, anyway. I’m a lot messier than this.” She sits up a little, looks around. “But if it bothers you, I could help you tidy up a little?”

“No!” Too fast. The Master pulls back again, fidgets. “I-I mean, it’s okay. I can just… I’m just going to clean up a little, you stay here and rest. It’s fine, Doctor, really. What kind of a host would I be if I let you clean my home?”

She gives in quickly. Honestly, she didn’t mean the offer. Just wanted to see him panic a little. Push his buttons. And yes, that’s wrong, but what he’s doing is worse. Pretending to be her friend like it’s nothing special, like it didn’t break something in her when he revealed himself…

From her seat on the sofa, the Doctor watches the Master putter around the room, picking up stacks of papers and things that vaguely look like weapons. They probably are. She doesn’t comment, only keeps sipping her tea. The ginger leaves a faint trace of bitter-sweetness on her tongue, down her throat, warming her whole body.

“You know you don’t have to do that, right? I already said it doesn’t bother me. And I’m not… I’ll just wait for a bit, until I’m sure those guys are gone, and then I’ll get out of your hair again. Don’t wanna impose.”

He throws her a look. “Doctor, I’m not letting you go out into the night after you were literally chased through the streets! How could I let you leave? They could come back. They could ambush you somewhere! I’d feel better knowing you’re safe tonight. Please, stay.”

She considers, even if it's not a real decision, even if her hearts have already decided.

“Alright. If you don’t mind…”

He ducks his head, looks up at her and smiles softly. “I don’t mind at all, Doctor. Not if it’s you.” And _oh_ , she thinks he truly means that.

Maybe it’s the ginger, maybe it’s the shock from her recent encounter wearing off, maybe it’s him, so close, but she feels a genuine smile spread on her lips. She hasn’t felt this welcomed in a while. Not after…

No, bad thought. Push it off, lock it away, pretend it’s not there.

Instead, she says the first thing that comes to her mind: “I haven't had a slumber party in ages.” Immediately after, she feels her cheeks grow hot. That’s a **stupid** thing to say sitting on your best enemy’s sofa.

The Master, O, chuckles lightly. “Me neither. And I think usually you need more people for a slumber party.” She nods her head at him. “True. And usually people are invited for them, too…” Neither of them outright says it’s **not** a slumber party. Neither of them mentions that the last time they had a slumber party, it was the two of them and Bill, in the Vault, watching Disney movies and munching on popcorn and just cautiously hoping for things to be alright.

Finally, the Master has cleaned up all things incriminating him, and he returns to her side, sitting down on the sofa next to her. There’s a large gap between them. The Doctor’s hearts ache for her to scoot over and lean against him. She doesn’t.

“What now?” she finds herself asking.

With the cutest expression, O shrugs. The Master shrugs. The Master. It’s him. She can’t forget that, can’t let her guard down.

 _Oh_ , but her bones ache for him, her hearts crave his embrace, her eyes can’t stop tracing every line of his face, her fingertips itch to touch, to skim, to flutter over his skin, reassure her that he’s real. That it’s really him.

“I don’t know.” He leans forward to take his own cup of tea from the table. She wonders, briefly, if there’s ginger in his, too, or if he’s too paranoid for that around her, too cautious.

“Why are you in London? And why are you on your own?” he finally asks the question that clearly has been burning on his tongue since the beginning.

With a sigh the Doctor drains her cup but keeps holding it. “Well, the TARDIS took me here. Not sure why, she sometimes does that when I need to help someone or stop some evil plans, but usually by now I would’ve found some sign of that.” She doesn’t add that she’s already saved the planet, that she's been here for a while. Traipsing around the city, looking for something to do. After…

Bad thought.

“And your friends? Where are they?” He sounds so concerned for them. Her hearts clench and she quickly thinks up a pretty lie.

“They’re at home. Needed a weekend off from adventure. Not unusual, they all have lives of their own. Yaz still has a job and Ryan’s got a game. I think Graham has poker night or something.” She doesn’t know what they’re doing right now. She knows they’re alive, knows they’re okay. But beyond that? No idea. She can’t face them just yet.

“That sounds nice,” the Master offers with a hesitant smile.

She makes a humming noise of agreement and puts her cup down. The ginger is buzzing in her system by now. It feels so very nice.

“And you? What are you doing right now? Any big assignments, Agent O? Anything important you're seeing on that horizon of yours?” She deliberately says his name, to remind her it’s him, not the Master. He’s pretending so she has to pretend, too. It’s so annoying. She wants to reach out and smack him. Wants to reach out and kiss him.

O brushes a hand through his hair and smiles. “Nothing big, no. Some small things here and there. I told you about the armor we found recently, right?”

The Doctor remembers armor, she thinks. “Yeah, think so. The blue one with the antennae?” He nods and his smile widens. “Exactly that one. I was really excited, since it seemed to be something big, but apparently it was just a hoax. Some kids assembled fake alien armor and thought it funny to leave it at the government’s doorsteps.”

Poor guy, he looks so crestfallen. Without thinking, she reaches out and pats his arm. “Sorry about that. I know how excited you get about extra-terrestrial life and all that.” Dark eyes look up at her and a warm hand covers hers. “Thank you, Doctor. But it wasn’t your fault so you don’t need to apologize.”

“Even so,” the Doctor argues and then falls silent as she forgets what she was going to say. His hand is still on her hand. Her hand is still on his arm. What is she **doing**?!

Apparently, he realizes that they’re touching, too, as he quickly pulls back and stutters out an apology. The Doctor cuts him off: “No, it’s alright, don’t worry about it,” and then they sit in awkward silence for a while.

“Do you… want to watch a movie?” the Master asks, O, the Master, keeping them apart gets harder and harder. Maybe she shouldn’t have drunk that tea, after all.

“Yes, why not? Do you have anything good?” she hears herself ask.

He gets up and pulls out a box overflowing with DVDs. A little noise escapes the Doctor’s throat when she realizes most of them are movies they watched together, in the Vault. Back when everything was still okay, back when her life wasn’t in shambles.

The Master looks up at her, concern in his eyes. No, wariness. Panic at the thought she might call him out on those DVDs. Instead, she leans closer and slowly rifles through the collection. “Ooh, I love Disney. They’re always brilliant. D’you know I once met Walt? A real sweetheart. He let me write some little tidbits in the earlier movies.”

O laughs, a little disbelieving. “Really? That’s incredible, Doctor.” He fidgets a little. “I always liked Disney. Watched them when I grew up, and I never really stopped, you know? They’re supposed to be for kids but… I like them.”

“Nothing wrong with that. I do stuff that’s for kids all the time and I’m…” She cuts herself off before she says something painful. “… alien, and a lot older than I look.” Bad save. But he doesn’t look too suspicious. The Doctor lying about her age to humans is nothing new.

“You’ve got quite a collection of spy movies,” she notes with amusement. O fidgets and nods. “Well, yes, I thought I should give it a go. See what spies usually do and then think about my desk job and wonder what I did wrong.”

Both of them chuckle. Well, it stands to reason that he did research on spies, even if he doesn’t need it. And then he probably got attached to the genre. He does that. At least it’s not the Teletubbies anymore.

“How about this one?” the Master asks as he holds up a DVD. She takes one look at the case and immediately has to suppress the giggles and the tears. Yes, **yes** , that one is perfect. “Yeah, sure. I haven't seen that one yet, only the first one.”

His beaming smile makes her want to kiss him. Or slap him. Idiot. Why does he have to be so sentimental to make them watch this movie? Why does she have to be so sentimental to agree to watch it with him? Why can’t they just stop pretending and be the Doctor and the Master for one evening, one night, just this once? She misses how close they used to be. Misses him.

“Uhm, do you want popcorn? I’ve got a bag of store-bought popcorn,” O suggests with an uncertain smile. The Doctor doesn’t even have to think about that. “Yes! I think.” She backpedals quickly as she realizes: “I don’t actually know if I like popcorn in this body. Haven't tried it yet.”

The delighted expression on the Master’s face is not imagined, even if it vanishes as soon as she catches it. “Then we’ll just have to see if you do. I’ll get it.” He pauses, hovers at the coffee table. “D’you want some more tea? Your cup’s empty.”

Does she want to get even drunker? Not particularly, no, but then she’d have to admit that the first cup already made her tipsy and she doesn’t want that, either. Besides, the ginger takes the edge off, makes her less nervous. Makes her a bit careless, sure, but she can handle it.

“Yeah, if you’ve got some more. It’s really brilliant tea.” The Doctor gives O a bashful smile and gets an adorable expression back as he ducks his head and fidgets. He fidgets quite a lot, she noticed. Is that O or is that the Master? Is it O being nervous or the Master pretending O to be nervous or the Master genuinely being nervous? Oh, her head hurts.

“I’ll get the movie started while you’re getting the tea and popcorn, okay?” she offers and he gives a grateful nod. As she gets off the sofa to pop in the disc, she can’t help but look around the room, for real this time. This face is curious, so what? She has a right to check on what he’s doing. What if he’s concocting some evil scheme to take over the world and she has to stop him?

While the DVD starts loading, the Doctor strolls through the small living room and inspects a few things. His bookshelf draws her in immediately. Lots of Shakespeare and Percy Shelley, of course. He’s dramatic like that. Poetry, a lot of poetry. Is that for O or for himself?

‘The Call of Chthulu’, interesting. Reading up on eldritch beings, huh? Actually, that’s not such a bad idea. Maybe she should start doing that, too…

Another book catches her attention and her fingers trace over the spine. Shaking fingers. _Oh_ , she knows that story. Didn’t expect him to… There are steps in the hallway and she rips herself away, returns to the TV and desperately tries to hide the tremble of emotion.

O comes bustling in, a tray with two cups, a kettle and a bowl of popcorn in his hands and a sweet smile on his face. He puts it down on the coffee table and then turns to fluff out the pillows, prepare a blanket for them to share.

The Doctor returns to the sofa and curls up on it, fairly close to the middle. He’s gonna cuddle her, if he wants to or not. She needs to be cuddled for this movie. So they’re both pretending. So what? They watched ' _Frozen_ ' together and cuddled, so they’re gonna watch ' _Frozen 2_ ' together and cuddle, too.

Apparently, the Master realizes her intentions. O settles down close to her and spreads the blanket over the both of them. With all the shuffling around and pulling it around their bodies, they end up only inches apart.

Before he can say anything ridiculous, like apologize for the contact in a very embarrassed O-fashion, the Doctor presses ‘play’ on the movie and carefully leans into his side. He leans over to reach for their cups and the popcorn bowl, placing it right in his lap and handing her the steaming tea.

After the first song, the Doctor leans her head on his shoulder. It fits perfectly and she mourns the reality in which the two of them are still friends, in which they can do this every day. To distract herself, she tries the popcorn.

O chuckles at the hum of appreciation she lets out. “Good?”

“Brilliant!” she confirms. “I’m really glad I still like it. It’s horrible thinking you like the taste of something only to eat it with a new mouth and have it taste yucky.” She’s still upset that fish fingers and custard made her sick when she tried it in this body.

“I can’t imagine what that’s like,” O says as he moves the bowl so she has better access to it. Oh, he’s horrible. _‘Can’t imagine what that’s like?’_ Please. Missy complained for two days about not liking her favorite sort of steak anymore. The Doctor just brought her Chinese and Thai food from then on, take-out and stuff. No fancy food, nothing that she could bemoan not liking anymore, since she’d never had it before. Genius solution.

Over the course of the movie, the two of them laugh and giggle and nod their heads along with the songs and about halfway through, the Doctor starts silently crying. She can’t help it. It’s… everything is just a bit too much.

The movie is honestly brilliant, but the thought of those people being exploited, tricked into having their land taken from them, their home… On top of that the fact that the two of them watched the first movie together in somewhat shaky peace but this one in play-pretend friendship… And the three cups of ginger tea. And her recent trauma and…

“Doctor, are you alright?”

A gentle hand cups her cheek and she sniffs. Looks into concerned brown eyes. Nods and quickly wipes her sleeve over her teary face. “Y-yeah, sorry. ‘S just a very emotional movie.” He doesn’t look like he believes her. Of course he doesn’t, he knows that she connects ' _Frozen_ ' with Missy. Did he pick it because of that? Or did he really want to watch this with her?

The Doctor turns back to the TV and refuses to acknowledge the eyes digging in the back of her head. After a moment she feels the Master relax back into their cozy half-embrace. They watch the rest of the movie in silence, first strained but after a while it smoothes out again.

When the credits roll, the Doctor doesn’t feel like moving. O gently extracts himself from her, though, and looks down at her relaxed body. “Want to watch another movie?” he asks gently and she just nods. Why not? It’s comfortable like this. And she’s more than a bit tipsy by now. Damn him and his brilliant ginger tea.

The Master gets up and puts in some spy movie that he swears is great. She’s gonna have to trust his word there, spy movies aren’t her specialty. And yes, her hearts do a somersault at the thought of trusting him with anything, both from nervousness and excitement. Longing.

Five minutes into the movie the Doctor feels her eyes droop. She cuddles closer into the Master and rests her head back on his shoulder. The warmth of his body pressed into hers, the soothing feeling of his mind next to hers, even if they’re both shielding, lulls her into sleep faster than she has ever managed to fall asleep in this body. Her eyes close and she’s gone.

**—o—**

She wakes to the feeling of utter bliss that only comes from falling asleep in the arms of her oldest friend in the universe. With a smile she turns and burrows further into the warmth. Feels the beats of his hearts beneath her, hears it from where her ear is pressed to his chest. He’s still asleep. She’s glad for that. No pretense, just him and her.

In a bed. The Doctor frowns slightly. When did they move into the bed? The last thing she remembers is falling asleep during that spy movie. Too much ginger and too comfy to move. Like she is right now. No, she’s not going to worry now. Later. Not now.

What feels like hours later but, according to the Doctor’s impeccable sense of Time, has only been thirteen minutes and forty-four seconds, the Master stirs. With barely a thought she falls lax and pretends to still be asleep.

Beneath her, the Master shifts and she can feel him tilt his head to look down at her. There’s a hand snaking in her hair, softly carding through it. Then his whole body goes rigid and the second heart in his chest ceases all movement, leaving her hollow. Empty.

The Doctor pretends to wake, pretends the sudden loss of his second heartbeat is what woke her, which, quite honestly, is not an unreasonable thought. Her own hearts were synced up with his, the loss of one of them is enough to startle anyone awake.

She blinks slowly, sluggishly, and turns her head so she can blearily look up at the Master. He offers her a sweet smile and she can’t help but smile back. “Hi, O,” she mumbles.

“Good morning, Doctor.”

With a sigh she shuffles around until she can sit up. Then she looks around and blinks. O’s bedroom is… not what she expected. “What happened?” she asks. “Weren’t we on the sofa?”

O looks down and fidgets. “You fell asleep during the second movie. I didn’t want to leave you there all night, so I carried you here and wanted to take the sofa myself. But, uhm…” His smile is helplessly honest. “You, uhm, wouldn’t let go of my shirt.”

The Doctor feels a blush rise on her face. Ah. That’s… “Sorry,” she mutters, feeling very much not sorry. It got her this, didn’t it?

“You have nothing to apologize for, Doctor. You were fast asleep,” he quickly assures her with a smile. She smiles back. Is he lying? Did he just lie down next to her because he was missing this, too? She wouldn’t put it past him, honestly.

An awkward silence falls over the room.

“I-I’ll go make breakfast,” O finally says as he gets up and nervously shuffles out of the room. The Doctor looks after him and then falls back on the bed with a dull _thunk_. Idiots, the both of them. Why can’t they stop pretending, just this once?

**—o—**

Later, after O has made them a delicious breakfast and the Doctor has refused another cup of tea the Master offered to make her, after O smiles at her and the Master refuses to let her walk back to her TARDIS on her own, they stand in the streets of London, next to a blue box.

“Thank you, O. For letting me stay the night. And making breakfast. And… and all that,” the Doctor offers with a wide smile. She means it, all of it, except the name. It wasn’t O who did any of these things. It wasn’t him she woke up to this morning. It was the Master. Always, forever, the Master. Her ~~oldest friend in the universe~~ best enemy.

He smiles at her, and even if it’s soft and sweet and without sharp teeth, bared, ready to sink into her throat, it’s not O who says: “It was no trouble at all, Doctor. You’re always welcome. If you ever need somewhere to stay, my door will always be open.”

Her hearts are beating a frantic rhythm in her chest and the Doctor doesn’t know how to respond to that. Because is that true? Will his door always be open for her? Will the Master’s door always be open for her, after what she said to him? After she called him less, after she left him to die and ran like the coward she truly is?

O steps closer, hands fidgeting with his sleeves, and the Doctor focuses on the moment, on the here and now, drags her mind away from her past and his future to realize what’s about to happen seconds before the man opposite her leans in.

Their lips meet in a soft kiss. Sweet, tasting of pancakes and toothpaste, weird combination but he **is** pretending to be human, so it’s not unexpected. What **is** unexpected is the rush of emotions bubbling up in the Doctor’s chest.

Before she can think about it she’s already reaching out for the Master’s collar, pulls him closer and deepens the kiss. He lets out a startled moan and follows instantly. One of his hands sinks into her hair, the other winds around her waist and presses them together. It’s glorious.

Slowly, the Doctor pulls away, hears him swallow down a noise of disappointment and almost gives in again before her mind screams at her to stop being emotional like this.

When she finally pulls back enough to look at him, his eyes are gleaming and the Master is very obviously pretending to be dazed by the kiss. “Uhm…” O stammers. She smiles and just presses another quick peck on his lips before stepping back.

“I have to leave now,” is her explanation when his eyes track her movement with obvious disappointment. “Oh,” the Master says.

 _Oh_ , she can’t resist that opening. “That’s your name.”

Something like delight flickers over his face. “It is.” They grin at each other like two little children. Then the Doctor takes another step back and reaches for the TARDIS door. “It was really nice, spending time with you.”

His smile is so gentle when he replies: “I feel the same way, Doctor.”

For a long moment, they just look at each other. The Doctor thinks about saying something, thinks about telling him she knows it’s him, thinks about kissing him again, thinks about offering to take him with her for a bit, thinks about smacking him. Thinks about apologizing.

She does none of those things. Instead, she gives the Master a smile and then disappears in the TARDIS, leaving him standing there until the blue box is gone.

The Doctor sighs, closes her eyes and leans against the console.

“Idiot,” she mutters, and she honestly doesn’t know which one of them she means.

** The End **

**Author's Note:**

> Kay.  
> So, I don't know about the ending, but I had to end it somehow and this seemed the best way to do it without adding a thousand more words and getting lost in some obscure plot point...
> 
> A big thank you to river_of_words for helping me pick 'Frozen 2' as the movie they're watching. Also, a general thank you for being amazing ^_^
> 
> The book 13 sees on 'O's bookshelf was supposed to be a plot point but then I forgot about it and didn't do anything with it. It's 'The Ones Who Walk Away From Omelas' by Ursula K. Le Guin. Some other Doctor Who fanfic writer used it in their fic, I can't remember who it was, but it made me curious so I read the story and... hngg, yeah, it has very heavy Timeless Child vibes.
> 
> In a different draft of this, 13 woke up screaming with a nightmare and O had to comfort her, but that got too sad for me so I cut it (I keep on cutting out scenes in which 13 cries and the Master comforts her... oops).
> 
> There probably won't be a story tomorrow, since I have zero idea for the prompt (Aquarium) but maybe I'll post something the day after. Maaybe. If I get inspiration. It's certainly a good prompt (Standing on tip-toes).
> 
> Okay, time to stop rambling.  
> Have a nice day, wash your hands, wear your masks and don't give up hope!
> 
> Mary


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